Sunrise
by Guardian Kysra
Summary: When she wakes, the glint of gold dazzles the eye. SetoTea Will NOT be continued . . . by me.


**_Sunrise_**

**by Kysra  
**

She wakes, warm and happy without knowing why, without wondering why. It's enough to feel this unknown elation, to have it bubbling from her dreams and into the waking smile that marks her lips; and it doesn't really matter that her weight is sprawled across a bed that is - strangely - twice as large as the one she is accustomed to. She has not yet noticed that her skin is completely bare or that she is not alone.

There is a blank spot in her memory that becomes apparent as her senses awaken from heavy slumber. She can recall her elation at seeing her friends at her first performance as a professional dancer, freshly graduated from Tokyo University and newly cast as a principle in the Nippon Ballet Company. She knows that the after party thrown by her fellow company members had featured spiked punch she had been careful to avoid; and she remembers celebrating with her friends at the Kame Game Shop. Beyond that . . .

A groan interrupts her sluggish and confused recollections, a groan not her own. Rather than feel alarmed, she turns her head to squint at the body next to hers as an arm drapes over her back before absently snuggling down into the man's side. Her eyes close once more, the sleepy little smile still painting her lips, and she breathes easily the scents of sandalwood and sex still clinging to her bedmate's skin.

He sighs into her face as the fingers of her left hand absently caress and rub at his chest, and her smile widens as drowsy cracked eyes bleerily watch his own - hesitant - contented smile form.

And then - recognition . . .

"KAIBA!" She is sitting up, wide-eyed and breathing heavily, her heart straining to beat faster, harder as shock claims her senses.

He remains oblivious, his eyes opening just slightly before his hand reaches out to pull her closer, " . . . more . . . sleep . . ," is all that he can utter before he falls back into blissful peace.

Counting silently to ten, she roughly shakes him into wakefulness, cheeks flushed and hands clutching the blankets to her chest, "What are you doing in my bed, Kaiba?" She's beyond shock and fast approaching the crossroads to "Fit to Kill" or "Utterly Mortified."

Still half-asleep and fuzzy-brained, he hoists himself up on one elbow to study her, "Gardner?" It is apparent he recognizes her but has not yet noticed her state of undress or their immediate surroundings.

She glowers at him, her good mood upon waking totally eradicated and completely forgotten, "I repeat, 'What are you doing in my bed, Kaiba!'"

Thick eyebrows lower over angular, cloudy blue eyes, a ghost of his usual glare, "I believe that is it you who is in my bed."

"That can't be . . . " She looks around at the dark blue patterned wallpaper, the plush gold/tan carpet, mahogany desk, and French-style windows, and suddenly knows it is as he says, "But how?"

He looks as confused as she is and pushes himself into a full sitting position, unmindful of his nudity and neglecting to cover himself. It is as she seeks to avert her eyes that she notices thick circle of gold upon his finger, "Kaiba, did you always wear a gold band?"

Cool and intelligent, he studies the ring upon the fourth finger of his left hand before glancing at her hands and letting out a string of expletives to rival a seasoned sailor of times gone by, "Take a look at your hand."

Her eyes follow the line of his to find a slim gold band on the fourth finger of her left hand sparkling gaily in the streaming morning sunlight. She stares and sits, raises her hand and fiddles with the little piece of fitted jewelry, not quite comprehending. Wide, unfocused blue eyes dart from his hand to hers and back, trying but failing to calculate the connection.

It is when he angrily climbs out of the bed, stark and beautiful in the bare light of morning, that she realizes what the rings must mean, "We're . . . _married_?"

_Will NOT be continued - unless someone wants to take it off my hands . . . _


End file.
